


Banana Smut Collection

by Feynite, LycheePit



Series: Banana Fics [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Blindfolds, F/M, Foreplay, Teasing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 15:41:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16856761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feynite/pseuds/Feynite, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LycheePit/pseuds/LycheePit
Summary: A place for little romantic and smut ficlets that don't necessarily have anywhere else to go, featuring LycheePit's Ana and my Venavismi.





	1. Blindfolded

The blindfold was Vena’s idea, first.

He had mostly meant it in terms of  _him_  wearing the blindfold. It would be kinda presumptuous, in his opinion, to suggest that  _Ana_  wear it. At least while they’re still experimenting with this stuff. But somewhere along the lines a wire must have gotten crossed, because he’s watching his fiancee tie a blindfold around her own face, lovely and naked and grinning in anticipation.

And.

Well.

Vena’s not going to say that the effect is anything less than a bolt of hot desire that sinks right through him. Because that is absolutely what it is, and he is an honest man at heart.

“Oh,” he breathes, and helps her brush some of her hair back and out of the way. The strands feel light and soft against his fingertips; her skin is warm, although she hasn’t quite gotten into a full-blown blush yet. Vena can’t resist moving in to steal a preliminary kiss, though. Cradling her face and moving slow, brushing the bottom edge of the blindfold with the tips of his thumbs. She settles her own hands atop his, and leans into the gesture.

“What next?” she sighs, when he can finally bring himself to stop pressing his lips to hers.

“Lie back,” he replies.

He means it to come out teasing. But his voice is low, roughened with arousal and anticipation. Ana bites her bottom lip. He nearly kisses her again. There are probably worse ways to spend an afternoon than kissing a blindfolded Ana, but they got some things ready, and it seems a shame not to use them.

The ice won’t stay ice forever, after all.

Ana lies back. He helps her get settled against the pillows, nice and comfortable, before he turns his attention to the little table beside them. The tray on it is lined with a few ‘fun’ things to experiment with. Feathers and ice cubes and candles, some lotions and oils and toys. He thinks it over for a minute. At least until Ana starts shifting in place, under the building anticipation. Then he moves one hand to her hip, and rubs at it with his thumb, before plucking a feather up from the tray first.

“Let’s try some things,” he suggests.

Ana’s throat bobs as she swallows. She rubs her legs together, a little; rustling them against the bed sheets.

“That’s the idea,” she agrees.

“Let me know if you don’t like it,” he requests. Then he tentatively starts to brush the feather across her. Starling at the corner of her jaw, and working it down the front of her neck. She bites her lip again. He gets as far as her breasts, though, before she loses it. Bursting into a rush of laughter, and catching his wrist. She pushes the feather away.

“It’s just tickling!” she says.

“Oh really?” he replies, in a teasing tone. Her grip tightens on his wrist.

“Don’t you dare try it again!” she insists. She knows him too well.

Unfortunately, the feather actually slides out of his fingers as she tightens her grip on him. She gasps and bats at him when it lands, and she thinks he’s brushing her with it. One of her knees reflexively comes up as the feather tickles her stomach.

_“Vena!”_

“Sorry, sorry! I dropped it!” he admits.

She loosens her grip and he dutifully picks it back up and moves it onto the tray again. Brushing his hands up and down less sensitive places, to help relieve the tickling sensation. Ana accepts his apology by drawing a hand to her lips for a kiss, and then giving it a friendly squeeze.

“Everything seems heightened like this,” she explains. “The tickling’s a bit much. I almost kicked you.”

“Duly noted, my lady,” he agrees. “We’ll try something else.”

A glance at the tray has him reconsidering. The wax seems kind of risky at this point - what if it hurts more than it’s supposed to? He doesn’t bother to light any of the candles, and instead reaches for the little dish of ice cubes. Ana takes a few long breaths, and has pretty much relaxed again by the time he turns back to her. He plucks up a piece of ice, and, like with the feather, very carefully brings it to her lips first. She parts them and swallows as he traces to the soft outline of her mouth with the corner of his ice cube. It draws out the flush in them. But rather than trail the ice down, Vena pulls it back away again. And then he moves it to the soft, sensitive skin of one of Ana’s nipples, and delicately traces  _that,_  too.

Ana shivers, and a thousand goosebumps seem to spread across her skin.

When he repeats the motion on her other breast, she twists and closes a hand around his forearm. A tiny sound of protest escapes her.

_“Cold,”_  she says. Not quite an objection, but not exactly rapturous about it, either.

Vena leans in and replaces the cold with the heat of his mouth. Experimentally running his tongue over the stiffened nub of her nipple, and earning a gasp for his trouble. He puts aside the dish of ice cubes as he moves to repeat the motion on her other side, and then slinks back up to steal another kiss.

“I think I might be bad at this,” he admits, as their lips part again. “I just want to touch you…”

Ana runs her own hands up and down his bare skin, and tilts her head up a little. Asking without asking for another kiss.

“Then just touch me, you goof,” she whispers. So much affection in her tone that Vena almost melts in place.

Well… when she puts it like  _that…_

“Gladly.”


	2. Lips

They’re like little flower petals.

Vena knows its cliche, comparing your lover’s lips to flowers. But he still has the thought, as he presses his thumb to them. Feeling her breath on his skin, and the softness of her mouth, and the easy way her lips part at just the touch. Waiting for a kiss he really wants to give her. But for a moment, he can’t help but look at her, too. See those lips he’s kissed countless times before. Countless times, and never tired of.

He leans in slowly.

Ana is plenty strong. But petals are soft, and he can’t help but be gentle as he finally moves his thumb aside, and brushes his lips lightly to her own. Closed his eyes at last, and sliding his hand to the side of her neck.

In the end, she’s the one who presses back more firmly. Deepening the kiss, still soft but more assured, until Vena bends towards her. And then he is the flower, chasing the warmth of her mouth, moving to her like she’s made of sunlight. He smiles into the kiss, and gives in.

 


	3. Freckle

It’s a hard choice to make, but Vena’s pretty sure he has a favourite freckle of Ana’s.

There are a lot of contenders. There’s the tiny, faint little one behind her left ear, which is noteworthy because it’s actually two freckles overlapping, and making it look kinda like one heart-shaped freckle. And there’s the one freckle that’s darker than most of the others, that sits on the back of her right shoulder blade and always peeks out when she’s wearing loose tops. There’s the faint little strip of freckles that are under her breasts, and while they might not be  _one_  freckle, Vena would never discount their effectiveness as a team.

But he thinks his favourite freckle is the big one on her right thigh.

It’s round, and larger than most, but pretty faint. It gets darker when it’s summer, though, because Ana’s bathing suits don’t usually cover it. It’s right beside her… well. It’s a good place for Vena to rest his mouth, sometimes, and he especially likes the way some of her other freckles sort of circle around it. Like it’s a planet. Or the sun, maybe, in the middle of a solar system.

The thing is, what with it being his favourite freckle, he doesn’t think he can be expected to resist temptation when he’s resting his head in Ana’s lap, and she’s in her short-shorts and it’s only  _one tiny move_  away from his lips. He shifts his head and presses a kiss to it - soft skin over firm muscle - and gets his ear tweaked for his troubles.

“Aren’t we going to the movie in half an hour?” Ana asks him.

“Of course,” Vena says, in a tone of utter innocence. “I’m not starting anything. I’m just kissing you.”

“Mmhmm,” Ana replies. She doesn’t sound convinced. But in fairness to her, that One Freckle  _is_  pretty close to other parts of her. Which Vena’s mouth has a habit of wandering towards. Maybe. It’s just the once he’s kissed  _one_  freckle, it’s very hard not to kiss the other ones. He doesn’t want them to feel unloved and left-out after all. Even if he’s picked is favourite, there’s still plenty of esteem for all of them.

“These are totally innocent kisses,” he insists, and places another one onto his favourite freckle.

Ana’s hips shift a little. When he glances up at her, she raises her eyebrows at him.

“Oh,  _innocent,_  I see,” she says. “So they’re not going anywhere?”

Vena places another one, this time to an adjacent freckle.

“They might migrate. A little,” he concedes. “Innocently.”

Before he can get much further with that thought, though, Ana pushes his shoulder back. Forcing him away from his targets, as she essentially rolls him over. The move says ‘behave yourself’, but before Vena can protest - they have half an hour, they can do plenty of things with half an hour - Ana leans down and kisses him with her own lips.

Ana’s lips, he must say, have a slight advantage over her freckles in the list of Excellent Ana Parts.

When she pulls back, her cheeks are pink. They twist, just a little, and the light in her eyes says ‘gotcha’.

“You can wander all you like,” she tells him. “ _After_  the movie. I actually want to see this one.”

Vena lets out a mournful sigh, but dutifully subsides.

 _After,_  he mentally promises the rest of her freckles.


	4. Kissing Stool

“This,” Vena says, proudly, “is a kissing stool.”

It is, in fact, an ordinary stool. Ana’s expression says as much as she looks at it. Vena’s prepared to explain - this stool is almost  _exactly_  the right height for bringing Ana within easy kissing range, if she were to stand on it. Mostly, Vena’s just pleased that the thought even occurred to him while he was off antiquing with Taz.

But before he can manage to, Ana shrugs, and reaches up, and tugs him down. And, well… he may have been planning on using the stool, but he’s not made of stone and Ana’s  _tugging him down_  for a kiss. So he goes, framing her face with his hands, and fighting a groan when she nibbles on his bottom lip. It has a way of sending little jolts of pleasure straight from his mouth and down, down below his stomach, and then on until it makes his toes curl.

Ana pulls back, and laughs at him.

“I don’t need any assistance in kissing you. Just for the record,” she says. But then she steps up onto the stool anyway, and reels him in again. Vena waggles his eyebrows and beams back at her, and they try the  _second_  kiss from on top of the stool.

It’s pretty nice, too.


End file.
